#probably meant for like age 15 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoward89 · 18 days

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Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Call Girl!Reader, Dom!Coriolanus

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is in himself his own warning. Dubcon, Noncon, choking, impact play, kissing, degradation, biting, p in v, breeding kink, creampie, talks of sex work, talks of past sex trafficking, talks of poisoning/murder

You stare out the pitch black tinted window as the driver of your black luxury car drives you to your destination, the Presidential Palace. You've been acting as President Coriolanus Snow's personal high class call girl for years. Well, ever since he became Head Gamemaker and saw you in Pluribus Bell’s illicit, but high end sex club.

Pluribus had acquired you when General Byzantine had put you up on the auction block after using you (and literally torturing you) as his personal fuckdoll. Despite looking like a broken piece of shit, hatred and fire burned in your beautiful eyes. According to Pluribus, it was the look in your eyes that made the old man buy you; put you in charge of the girls in his sex club.

So, basically, Pluribus made you a Madame. Not that you minded. Hell, it meant that you didn't have to fuck nutjob, crazy, overly kinky whackjob Capitol men anymore.

But when Coriolanus Snow came into the club, after being invited by Pluribus after breaking off an engagement (why things didn't work with the Cardew banking heir, Livia, you didn't know; didn't care either) and laid his icy blue eyes on you, well, he just knew that he had to have you.

At first you told Pluribus no when he approached you with Snow's request, but then the platinum blonde pretty boy cornered you with an offer you couldn't refuse. A private penthouse, your own car and driver, a black Amex, and never having to work another day if you agree to be at his beck and call as his personal call girl.

His high class girl, as he called you.

That was 5 years ago.

Yea…

At this rate you'll probably be President Snow's high class girl forever.

Hopefully he finds himself a wife so you can move on with your life. Maybe take all that money you have squirreled away and get a nice beach house somewhere in District 4. The weather's lovely there. Maybe you'll even find somebody to settle down with; even have a kid or two.

It'd be nice to be able to retire from whoring. You've been in the game since your family sold you at age 15 to pay off debts. You've been fucking for a living for a decade now; it's getting old.

But at least the President is the kindest out of all the men you've been with, which is saying something because Coriolanus is as cold as his name, Snow.

You're so far inside of your head that you don't even notice the car stop or your driver, Herbie open the door.

Herbie clears his throat, only.to announce, 'Ma’am, we're here.”, causing your self imposed spell over your mind to break.

“Thank you, Herbie.” You simply told him, stretching your hand out for him to help you out of the car.

“I'll be here waiting for you, Ma’am.” Your driver told you, shutting the door once you were out of the car.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” You politely assured Herbie before walking towards the side entrance of the Presidential Mansion, which was marked with a trellis of vining; blooming roses. The side entrance leads straight to Coriolanus' personal living quarters; of course you had the key for it.

Your black designer stilettos loudly echo against the marble as you walk up the white and gold staircase that separates the president's personal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room from the bed chambers, bathrooms, and his private study. You've only ever been in his bedroom and the sitting room. Both were immaculate, so you assume that the rest of his living quarters in the presidential palace must be extravagant too.

One thing you've noted about President Coriolanus Snow over the last few years of knowing him is that he has high class taste. A posca taste, if you'll call it. The more expensive, the better.

And it's that trait of his that has you baffled about why he's kept you around so long to fulfill his needs. Surely he can find himself some young, beautiful, and naive high class twit from a rich family to groom into his perfect classy woman.

His First Lady.

Surely, he must be getting tired of paying for you- putting you up in a high end penthouse that's about a 5 or so minute drive from his palace. Back before he became president your place was literally the next building over from his. Yea, that's how classy and ritzy of a penthouse you're in.

“I'm in my room, darling.” Coriolanus called out to you as soon as your heels clicked against the marble of his second story floor.

No shit, he's in his room. He's always in his room. He's either sitting on the bed end settee or on his ornate sofa, but either way he's donning his waistcoat and smoking while waiting for you. The epitome of regal master.

“I’ll be right there, Coriolanus.” You called back, speeding up your steps slightly to reach the white and gold scrolled double doors of his chambers.

Opening the door and walking inside, you spot him lounging on his cream sofa. His legs are crossed and he has an arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa’s ornate mahogany frame. Coriolanus’ platinum hair his in its natural curly state, which is a rarity, but also means that he ruined his slicked back look by running his hands thru his hair all day- something he does when frustrated or nervous. And, like always while awaiting your visit, he's smoking.

“Darling, I told you last time you were here to call me Coryo.” The President told you, reaching his arm out to tip his ashes into the crystal ashtray that's on the mahogany coffee table.

“I'm sorry, Coryo. I forgot.” You lied thru a smile, a smile that was so fake it wasn't even funny.

You didn't forget, you just don't want to call him nicknames. Not when you know that your arrangement has an expiration date; one that'll be coming up soon enough.

Sitting up, he pointed to you with his cigarette and said, “Show me what you wore for me tonight.”

He did this every time you came over for his booty call. It was a ritual you're used to. You'd be shocked if he didn't ask you to model the lingerie for him.

With a sultry smile, you untie and unbutton the long red trenchcoat you're wearing. “It's a new set that I bought the other day.” You inform Coriolanus while opening up the coat and letting it fall off your shoulders; onto the floor.

President Snow's mouth watered as he took in your form dressed up in a lacy black bustier and matching cheeky panties along with those black stilettos with the red bottoms- the ones that he loved seeing you in. He thought that those heels did wonders for your legs, legs that he loved to have wrapped around his body- whether he was fucking you or feasting on your cunt.

Snubbing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and rising from the sofa, the president smirked, “I do enjoy it when you go lingerie shopping, my darling rose.” Striding over to you, only to circle you like a predator circle's it's prey, the regal platinum blonde looked at you hungrily. As if he's starving and you're a filet mignon.

Coriolanus stopped right in front of you, only to give you a smoldering look while unbuttoning his maroon waistcoat, his long fingers moving lithely. Shrugging off the vest and chucking it towards a nearby sitting chair, he closed the distance between you. His tall form towers over you; you know what he wants from you.

It's what he always wants from you.

You ran your hands over his chest, which was quite toned underneath his crisp white dress shirt, and pressed your lips to his Adam's apple. As you kissed a tantalizing trail down his neck and to the collar of his shirt, leaving blood red lips tip stains in your wake, his large hands snaked around you. His breathing was husky and lustful as you lifted your head up, staring straight into his baby blues, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your red nails a stark contrast to his shirt.

“I have a business trip I need to attend in 12.” Coriolanus said while you pushed his shirt off of him after opening it up. You just nodded, raking your red nails up and down his chest before tweaking his nipples. Just the way that he likes.

You thought that all talks of his meeting was over, so you leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped you by lifting up one of his hands and grabbing your chin. “The mining bosses are having some issues with their workers meeting production goals; I'm leaving in the morning and you're coming with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You can't go to 12. No, you won't go to 12. You refuse to go back to that shit hole you once called home, where your family- that sold you into a life of sexual slavery to a brothel for money to pay off drinking debts- lives.

“I'm not going to 12, Coriolanus. We'll see each other when you get back.” You firmly told him.

Which wasn't what he wanted to hear. In fact, he wanted you to nod your head; maybe make a remark about needing to pack, and then get to fucking him. You refusing him was never in the cards.

You just dealt him a hand he wasn't expecting. But, President Snow's an excellent poker player; he'll make due with the cards you've just given him.

Coriolanus' large hand slipped from your chin only to grab your throat. His face dipped so close to yours that his hot breath, which smelt like smoke, mints, bourbon, and coffee, fanned over your face. “I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm telling you that you're coming to District 12 with me.” His thumb pressed into your windpipe, not hard enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough to make you wheeze and pay attention to him as he spoke in a cold, authoritarian tone. “I fucking own you, so when I tell you to do something you do it. You don't get to say no to me.”

President Snow looked like a crazed, disheveled mess as he chastised you. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Because it did.

Oh how it did. It might be wrong being turned on by a power hungry zealot who's telling you that you're his property, but the way he looked while doing it. Hot damn, it made your pussy pool; stain your black lacy panties with a wet patch.

Yea…you're pretty fucked up at this point in your life.

The platinum blonde's large hand slid from your hip over your lower belly, only to sneak under the waistband of your panties. He dipped his mouth to your ear, grabbing your pussy in his large calloused hands, while telling you, “I own this pussy, darling, and if I want to fuck it every goddamn day of my business trip then I sure as hell will.” Coriolanus bit your earlobe, hard enough to crack the pearl earring you're wearing.

An earring he bought you in the early days of your arrangement.

He pulled away, only to look at you darkly. Spitting the cracked pearl earring in your face, he pulled his hand out of your underwear. He brought his fingers up to his prominent nose, only to inhale your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He was, for a lack of a better word, getting high off of your musk.

Oh yea, the President sure was something else…but who are you to judge? You're his personal whore, so…

His icy eyes popped open, with a lust filled crazed look, as he sucked his fingers one by one. Savoring the taste of your juices while keeping his tight hold on your neck with his other hand. His tongue swirled around his pinky, the last finger to be licked clean by him. “You taste divine. Too bad you need to be disciplined for your rude behavior and won't be having your cunt eaten by me tonight.”

“Disciplined for my rude behavior? Coryo, the only thing I did was tell you that I'm not going to 12.” You spoke up, standing your ground to your, for a lack of a better word, owner.

Coryo’s fingers pressed hard into your neck, no doubt leaving behind finger shaped bruises that would need covered up by IL MAKIAGE tomorrow. Looks like you'll have to make another trip to Sephora soon if you don't want to have bruises all over your neck shown off to the public. How embarrassing would that be, going to various stores with chokehold bruising all over your neck. You shudder at the thought of it.

“Talking back is rude behavior, baby.” He hissed before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was hard and bruising. Biting your lower lip; drawing blood, he pulled away from the kiss. Giving you a dark, slightly unhinged look, the stoic platinum blonde swore, “Bad girls get spankings and you're going to get so many that you won't be able to sit on your red, hot ass tomorrow during our damn train ride.”

Coriolanus is sitting on the red velveteen settee at the end of his gold and red velvet framed bed. You're bent over his knees, ass up in the air while your head rests on the settee. Your arms are outstretched; your hands arm firmly grabbing the end of the red velvet material for purchase as the President smacks one ass cheek and then the other.

*Smack, smack*

Coriolanus chuckles at how red your ass is. He's been at this for a while now; both of you have lost count of how many times his hand has come down on your cheeks. He rubs the sting out of your red ass cheeks before raising his hand high up in the air and bringing it down on the right cheek, only to repeat the action on the left cheek.

*Smack, smack*

Your designer black heels are still on your feet, so they sway in the air as you kick out of reflex due to the spankings. God, he would make you keep the heels on for this. Hell, this spanking session seems to be the longest in your entire life with him. Usually he indulges in a slap or two to your ass while taking you from behind, but never anything like this.

But it could be worse. He could be a crazy, torture hungry, fucking sadist like that crazy ass General Byzantine was. The man who beat you within an inch to your life and put you up on the auction block once a couple of his Avoxes had nurtured you to suitable health.

You were overjoyed when he died about 4-4 ½ years ago. All the media outlets say that General Byzantine died from tainted tea at one of the popular tea houses in the Capitol. Apparently Coriolanus was there with him, having a meeting for political purposes since he was running for Senate and nearly died. You remember that he had canceled your sessions for a week, but still put a hefty sum in your bank account; even requested that you wear a certain color lingerie (blood red) when you resumed your little booty calls with him once he recovered from nearly dying from tainted tea.

Your black lacy cheeky panties slid up your ass crack from the force of all the spankings. Coriolanus didn't say a word, just silently righted the panties before landing another pair of smacks to your ass cheeks, causing you to let out a loud squeal.

“Did my bad baby girl learn her lesson, or do you need more?” President Snow asked, his ardent tone a bit dark and mocking as he soothed your ass by rubbing it- with both palms this time.

“I've learnt my lesson, Mister President, Sir.” You told him, choking back a moan as you grew wetter and wetter from his hands just rubbing the sting out of your ass. Oh God, how your core aches for his cock.

Coriolanus let out a deep, throaty moan at your answer. He loves it, fucking loves it when you call him Mister President and Sir. Oh, and put them both together- yea he's fucking feral.

The president slightly opened your legs, only to swipe a long finger up your wet, clothed center. “Oh, darling, you're soaked.” He proudly announced. “Is that all for me?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, already knowing that it was all for him.

You knew that the platinum president didn't need an answer, but decided to indulge him with one anyway. “Yes, Coryo. It's always for you.”

Coryo bent down and peppered your beet red ass with kisses. The plushness of his lips against your hot sensitive skin makes you squirm. Chuckling, Coriolanus sat up and pulled your heels off, one by one, and let them fall to the floor with a loud thud. He helped you stand on your feet, only to pull down your panties and toss you onto the bed.

As you lay on your stomach, head buried in his pillow, which smelled like him- like roses, you heard the sound of Coryo slipping out of his black floor shines while unbuckling his belt. You peeked over your shoulder, only to see him quickly unzipping his maroon pants. You turned back around, resting your head back on his pillow, as he quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs.

“Lift your ass up high for me and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, baby.” The President ordered you, to which you obliged him. Your ass was raw and stung, but your pussy was throbbing with need, as Coryo kneeled right behind you on his king sized bed. “Fuck, you're always such a needy lil slut for me, darling.” He remarked upon seeing your cunt dripping and glistening for him.

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked, “Only for you, Coryo, my Mister President.”

The platinum blonde's icy eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of his head at your words. Words that went straight to his cock, making it harder- if that was even possible.

“Yes, I'm your President and you're my perfect, pretty, lil slut.” Coriolanus groaned, teasing your clit with the angry, red, leaky tip of his cock. “You remember that the next time I tell you to do something, baby girl.” He said, grabbing your hips and snapping forward; sheathing his entire 8 inches into your soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, darling, you're so goddamn tight for me.” Coriolanus groaned, pulling out only to surge forward, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

President Coriolanus Snow has a big cock and he sure does know how to use it. That's for sure. And you let him know that too.

“Of course I'm tight for you, Coryo. You're the biggest cock I've had, the only man whose tip kisses my cervix; whose girth stretches me out with a delicious sting.” You honestly tell him, stroking his ego and making him start to pound into you relentlessly.

Hearing you say that out of all the men that you've had in your whoring career that he's the biggest and the best makes his heart soar with overwhelming pride. So much so, that he'll just have to keep you around.

Permanently.

Coryo doesn't think that you'll have any protests about it. Maybe he'll bring up the idea while you're away on business in 12. Use the time away as both a vacation and a business trip. There is a vacant cabin in the woods that he knows of by a lake that could be a setting for a romantic night or two.

“Oh…fuck…Coryo…” You moan into the pillow that you're holding onto for dear life as you surge forward with every hard, fast thrust Coryo gives you.

“You like it when I fuck you face first in the mattress like a dirty fucking slut, don't you darling?” He groans, rutting even faster while placing a hand on the middle of your back; pushing you further down into the mattress. “Fuck, you're so sexy like this, baby.” The President huffs. “So fucking sexy.”

You moan into the pillow, but it comes out in a heap of garbled drools, as Coryo's cock hits that special spongy spot deep inside of you while his heavy cum filled balls slap against your swollen, neglected clit.

“That's it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, you pathetic slut.” Coriolanus encouraged in a half groan as you began to meet his thrust with ones of your own. You could help it, you needed to cum so badly. Fucking yourself on his cock while he pounded you was the only way to do that.

Turning your head, so that the side of your face rest on his drool soaked pillow, you mewl and whine, “So close, Coryo. I'm so close.” Feeling that coil in your lower belly tighten, you beg, “Please, let me cum, Mister President. Please, make me cum.”

Coryo quickly unhooked the long row of clasps that held your black lacy bodice together while cooing, “Don't worry, my pretty baby, I'll make you cum” The bodice fell off your shoulders, but Coryo slipped his arm around your middle and pulled you up on your knees, only to yank the black bustier off of you; tossing it to the side.

Coryo's hands instantly grabbed hold of your tits as he continued to harshly fuck you. His hands squeezed them roughly and pinched your nipples, all the while your hands clawed his wrists for leverage as he felt your climax coming on. Coriolanus knows you're close by how your cunt's clenching around his cock. “Fucking cum for me, darling.” he ordered, biting the crook of your neck.

The feel of his teeth roughly nipping your skin, only to use his tongue to soothe it, paired with his deep, erratic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously, and his large, calloused hands roughly fondling, had you cumming with a loud moan. A moan that was a string of curses mixed with his name: Coryo.

He fucked you thru your orgasm only to shove you back down onto the bed and plunge his cock hard and fast into you. His pounding was so relentless as he chased his own release that you felt another orgasm on the cusp. Oh gods, his cock felt so fucking good hitting you on all the right spots.

Oh fuck…

“I'm gonna fuck you full with my heirs, baby.” Coryo panted, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Can't wait to fucking knock you up; see your belly swell with my growing baby inside.” He babbled as his hands roughly held onto your shoulders for leverage. “You're gonna look so beautiful all round and full of my baby, my darling rose.”

You didn't pay him any mind. Didn't say a word about his string of impossible words. You're on birth control, so his fantasy of knocking you up is just that. A fantasy. A breeding kink, to be politically correct.

Coriolanus’ hips stuttered, once, twice, three times before he was moaning, “Fuck, Y/N, baby. Fuck…”, and filling your pussy with hot ropes of his thick cum.

Feeling his hot cum spurting into your womb sent you over the edge. “Coryo…” You mewled, cumming for a second time.

He didn't stop and pull out like he usually did.

No…

This time, Coriolanus kept fucking you. He fucked his load right into your pussy, causing you to let out a shaky moan from both overstimulation and your third orgasm of the night.

Coryo finally pulled out, but only after filling you up with a second load of his thick, hot cum. Cum that was somehow leftover in his balls from the first time.

The President smugly grinned as he watched his second load of the night slowly drip out of your puffy, abused pussy- looking like beautiful white pearls.

Ah, pearls. That reminds him…

“I bought you a new jewelry set for the trip. Fancier pearls than the ones you had; they're packed in your bag.” Coriolanus told you, sitting by your side and rubbing your back as you lay on the bed like a ragdoll.

Ugh. Of course, he bought you new things, including luggage, and packed them up for the damn trip to District 12- your personal hell- that he's dragging you on.

When you didn't say a word, Coryo pushed the strands of sweat soaked hair away from your face and asked, “Are you alright, baby?”

Pushing his hand away from your face, you simply assured him, “Yea, I'm fine.”

Nodding, he told you, “I'll call your driver, tell him that you're staying the night; then I'll run us a bath.”

You've never stayed the night before, prompting you to ask, “Why're you letting me stay the night with you, Coryo?”, as he stood up.

“We're needed at the train station bright and early, Y/N. It's just easier for you to stay here so we can head out together in the morning.” The President explained before taking off to do the things he told you about.

Of course, he wanted you to stick around tonight so he can make sure that you're on that train with him heading to 12 in the morning. You're his personal high class girl. His glorified whore. If President Coriolanus Snow wants you with him tonight to ensure that you step on that train with him tomorrow, so he can fuck you during his stupid business trip in hell, then that's what he's going to get.

You don't have a say in the matter. You're just around until he gets bored of you; finds something younger and prettier to satisfy his carnal desires with.

Only you thing you don't know is that President Coriolanus Snow’s never going to get bored of you or trade you in for a younger model. In fact he thinks you're the best girl he's ever had.

Hell, the devil himself knows that the President killed for you- even if you don't know it.

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thechekhov · 3 months

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Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH42

Who is that. Is that Marcille? It doesn't look like Marcille. Why her ears so small.

why is this alternate-universe man struggling with so many modern day issues, like his parents pestering him to have kids? We came so far... but in the end.... we never left.

DAMN, GET OFF HIS ASS! I know it must be a dream but damn. You don't have to do the poor boy like this! He's doing his best!

We all need friends like this that will just wrestle you into bed.

.......is the idea that you can enter someone's dream as easily as just sleeping on them? Just physical contact? Damn. Free MMO VR experience.

Ah yes. Because really, what ELSE would you use lucid dreaming for, if not this?

Someone who's never read Dungeon Meshi explain what's going on in these panels.

Not gonna lie, I'm a huge sucker for weird liminal spaces like these. I know they're meant to freak people out but they have the opposite effect on me. This is peak mental stimulation.

IT'S A BABY MARCILLE????!?? AOOUUUGUGUHUGHU LOOKIT HER

Me and Laios: ah, yes, Marcille's family is a polycule, confirmed. This is surely the way it's meant to be taken.

oh, that's. hm.

Ahhh, poor kid! She's so terrified, and even though she doesn't recognize Laios, she knows he's a friend. Damn, I really love the fact that, despite often arguing with him, Marcille and Laios are actually genuinely close friends.

WEE WOO WEE WOO THAT'S NOT GOOD.

I just realized her doll looks like Falin!!! Will the wonders never cease!!

Oh! It's the guilt! :D Her real source of fear is the crushing guilt of having resurrected her girlfriend and accidentally siphoning away her humanity!

.........hang on. If it's not monsters OR death that Marcille is scared of.... is it possible that she's scared of... other people dying before she does?

She's an elf, right? Or a half elf, if the people who spoiled that reveal for me have spoiled it correctly. That means she'll probably out-last her friends. Is THAT the fear?

...or did he.

You can do what????? Use ancient magic to reverse the aging of your loved ones?!?!

That eye is the same as that of the elf, huh.

Yeah girl, you show that thing. Bonk it with the wizard's spellbook.

👏let 👏 her 👏 sleep!

Y'all got. CLAMS? In your. PILLWS?

......Y';ALL GOT PILLOWS? IN THE DUNGEON??

... the internal monologue of a cat who will continue to be too lazy to move for the next 15 hours.

OH!!!! HIM!!!!!!

(❁´◡`❁)

Listen. You don't choose your fursona. Your fursona chooses you.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #dungeon meshi liveblog #delicious in dungeon #chekhov reads dungeon meshi

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mikobeautifulheart · 2 months

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drunk megumi kissing you like there's no tomorrow. (no smut please!!!)

so like, everyone here is aged up to 18+. yuji and nobara wanted to see how megumi reacts when he gets drunk. they purposefully mix alcohol to one of his cold drink. he drinks it, goes to my dorm and then.... yeah..... it is up to you now.

ummm, maybeee you could make him pin me to the wall or my bed UGH!! JUST MAKE IT HOT!! A HOT MAKE-OUT SESSION!!!!

and ofc, write this only if you're comfortable enough.

thank you in advanceeeee!! <3333333333

Ask and you shall receive. Also its mostly unedited but I wanted to get this done for you ASAP. Hope its what you had in mind-ish? There is no smut and I tried to get it as hot as possible in my mind rn. Hope you enjoy!

BTW ur my first request so...congrats?

DrunkMegumi! And his over due confession.

Word count: 1398

TW: I guess you technically drugged Megumi?

Is he really dead on the inside? (Drunk Megumi confession)

Yes all characters are aged up to 20 and there is not a hint of smut. Just uh…Hotness.

Being a sorcerer is many things. It's a sacrifice of giving up on desires like love. And it's also years and years and yearssss of built up stress.

Everyone gets stressed right? Between Yuji and Nobora, Megumi only has two moods. Kill and annoyance.

Knowing that there had to be more to their reserved friend they both tried to come up with a plan on their assigned mission together. Anything that would bring out this ‘Hidden side’ of Megumi.

“What if we put him on a really fast roller coaster” Yuji said

“What are you, 15? No one goes to those amusement parks any more moron.” Nobora said her eyes twitching from all the ideas they have come up with. Nothing on their list would seem to work on Megumi. He was to ‘Dead on the inside’

“Wait. we’re not 15 any more” Yuji said his eyes brightening with an idea

“Yeah, so spit it out.” Nobora said on the verge of punching Yuji square in the face.

“Megumi's 20th birthday is next week…”

Nobora stops walking, sensing that Yuji might actually be onto something.

“What if we…mess up his drink, ya know, maybe hand him the wrong cup”

“YOU IDIOT, YOU'RE RIGHT” Nobora yelled slamming her fist into her palm. Of course whether this was the ‘right thing to do’ was completely thrown out the window, when you were as desperate as them nothing mattered anymore.

Buzzz

Your phone rang in your pocket.

“It's Yuji. You said looking at the contact name then at Megumi.”

He sighed in annoyance but you knew he really meant that you should pick up. So with a swift hair flick to the side you put the phone to your ear.

“Yuji, are you okay? Is Nobora alright?” You asked

“Y/N you gotta help us. It's about Megumi's birthday, we have a plan but we need you to do it because there's no way Megumi is going to trust us.”

Alarm bells are going off in your head because whatever those two have come up with can't be good, especially when Megumi is the target. You turn away from Megumi before responding.

“Look you two I don't know what you planned but it can’t be good. ”

“No, no wait” Yuji said, interrupting you.

“Don’t you wanna see Fushiguro tipsy?”

You paused. You've never seen Megumi drink, let alone anywhere near drunk.

“How do you suggest we do that?” you asked.

“Happy birthday to Megumiiiiiiiii, happy birthday to youuuuu”

“Alright cut it out already” He maybe 20 but he still acts like the 15 year old Megumi.

You start serving the cake while Yuji is silently escaping to the kitchen with the big bowl of punch he made with a secret ingredient and Nobora hands over some gifts to Megumi while he doesn't suspect a thing.

You don't know why but your heart is racing. Maybe because you're nervous to see Megumi drunk, or that he would catch on before the plan was even in action. Or maybe the fact he was staring at you the whole time.

Probably that last one.

Its no secret you and Megumi got close over the years but it seemed like you were close enough to go to the next level he would pull away and you guys would go back to square one. Well after years of this happening you eventually learned that you’d never be more than friends. So that's how it stayed. But on those rare occasions that Megumi would make you feel nervous, he would really make you feel butterflies.

Yuji comes back into the room with the bowl of ‘punch’ handing out cups to everyone. When he gave one to Megumi, he could see Megumi's hesitation.

“What's the matter, Fushiguro? You don't like it? That's sad because Y/N made it for your birthday especially.”

You whipped your head around. Now you understood why Nobora and Yuji needed you to execute the plan.

“There's nothing weird in there if you were concerned, go on tell him Y/N” Nobora said, giving you the ‘go along with it’ look.

“Yeah…Its just tropical fruit juice and sprite ‘n whatever you mumbled the last bit not even knowing what the punch really was”

Megumi looked at you and the cup.

“No it’s just-I thought I had a bug in mine” he said before downing the whole cup.

That's how it was most of the night. He just kept drinking and drinking without a change.

“Maybe he has a high alcohol tolerance?” Yuji texed Nobora, clearly losing his excitement.

“Maybe you didn't put enough alcohol in” she was clearly annoyed that Megumi seemed to have no reaction so while Megumi left for whatever he left for, she snuck a whole nother bottle of alcohol in.

“Guys don’t you think this is going too far?” You asked, getting tired as it reached 10:00. You had missions in the morning you didn't want to keep being tired.

“Maybe your right” Yuji sighed

“This might all be a wasted effort”

“Where is Megumi anyways?” Nobora asked. You guys haven't heard from him in the past 10 minutes.

So you all snuck into Megumi's room to see him passed out on the floor.

“There's the reaction you were looking for” You said

Disappointed, Yuji and Nobora Help you put him on his bed and head to his door.

“Good night guys” you said

“Aren't you coming?”

“I’ll do a quick clean up and then leave” You said with a yawn evident in your voice.

“God I dont get why Megumi didn’t wife you up at all” Nobora sighed before walking out the door after Yuji shutting the door behind her.

“I thought about it, '' Megumi said, suddenly appearing behind you making you jump, not expecting his presence.

“Megumi?!”

His words were slightly slurred and his footsteps were slow. He was drunk.

“Uh umm I was going to do a quick clean up then leave but I can leave now if you want-” You said not knowing what Megumi was on about.

Suddenly you felt strong hands push you onto the door.

“Megumi?” you said, your face heating up.

“Megumi, you're drunk…you're not thinking straight right now, just go to sleep and drink water in the morning.”

“Do you care about me?”

You paused. Yes you wanted to say. For years since school and still now.

“Why would you ask that?” you asked turning your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

“You never dated another guy in the time ive known you…I…I took your life from you because I wanted you.” he mumbled. He sounded sorry like he really robbed you of your life, but honestly it was the opposite.

“Your right, i didn't date another guy because i did care about you, I still do and-”

Before you even finished you felt something soft on your exposed neck.

“MEGUMI?!” you squealed in sheer shock and surprise.

“‘M sorry, I was scared I would lose you if I became too attached , ya know? But 'm older now and i can’t keep living like this.” he said in between breaths

“‘N I just…I can’t”

He pulled away just to lift you off the ground bridal style to his room. He walked in and placed you on the bed and collapsing right next to you arm slung around your waist.

“Look Megumi, I said you were drunk okay? You just need to sleep” you got ip to leave before his hand caught your arm and pulled you back down.

“I'm sorry” he mumbled before holding the back of your head and giving you the most alcoholic kiss ever. Even if you tried you knew you couldn't pull away. You felt hot tears on your cheek. The guilt he felt for not doing this sooner, for making you wait, for making himself wait. His lips pulled away and trailed down your neck and shoulders. He pulled you closer.

“Best birthday present ever” He said before going back to your lips.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

BONUS: “Man, I really wanted to see him confess or somethin’” Yuji said while walking back to his dorm with Nobora.

“Yeah I guess that guy really is dead on the inside '' she sighed disappointed.

AUTHORS NOTE: It's 1:30 rn but I really wanted to write this so its mostly un-edited. Sorry. AND REBLOGS ARE WELCOMED as per usual. :) Gn everyoneee.

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tartarusknight · 1 year

Text

The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks | Part 1

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Steve didn't have the heart to tell the kids about how Billy didn't back off after Max's threat. Not when they seemed to look up to him for some reason. So, instead, he stayed out of Billy's way as much as he could. But it seemed like the man was hunting him down. It got to the point that Steve dropped basketball.

Steve got used to being slammed into lockers and taunts from the people he used to friends with. So what if he wasn't top dog anymore? So what if he didn't have any friends his own age? So what if Nancy dumped him (ripped his heart out and stomped on it with bullshit)? So what if Billy left bruises on his body with well time jabs and kicks? Steve was an adult he could handle this...

However, as he was shoved into the janitors closet and hearing the lock click behind him, he thought maybe it was getting worse. He slammed his shoulder to the door but it didn't budge and he heard Billy's stupid laughter outside. "Enjoy your alone time, princess," Billy taunted.

Steve slid to the ground and tried not to panic. He wasn't going to freak out just because it's dark and he doesn't have anything to protect himself. He really wasn't going to. He wasn't that much of a loser that he was scared of the dark.

Then he started to cry. He normally was a silent crier, but normally, he wasn't struggling to breathe. He curled around himself and tried not to think of creatures with mouths that took up their entire head and opened like flower petals. Really, he was trying. But Steve just couldn't focus.

There was a soft voice outside the door that shook him from his isolation. "Hey man, you alright?" A dude questioned, and Steve tried to focus so he could answer. "Imma pick the lock, just gimme a minute. I've got ya," the voice was smooth, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't really want to be seen at the moment, but he wanted out more.

The door clicked, and Steve crawled back so it could open. Eddie Munson was crouched there, a few things in his hands that he probably used to pick the lock. The known drug dealer looked frozen in shock at the sight of Steve, and Steve basically plowed into him to get out of the room quickly.

His brain was fried, and he really wanted to cling to Munson and let the calm voice focus him. Instead, he backed off and pressed his back to the wall, hanging his head between his thighs. "Thanks," he mumbled and hid his tear stained face from the other.

"Uh, it's um, not a problem... Usually, I'm helping others after you pick on them, though," Eddie's voice wasn't as soft as it had been. It made Steve wince and curl up tighter on himself. Of course, Munson would hate him...

"Never shoved anyone in janitor closets before," he said instead.

"Ahh, lockers then."

Steve shook his head, "You could really hurt someone doing that. What if no one found them? Or if they passed out or something?" He pointed out and finally looked up at the other boy. Eddie was just staring at him like he's never seen Steve before. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," Steve breathed out, but it came out more snappish than he meant it to.

"Right... so how come King Steve was shoved into the closet?" Eddie questioned and Steve looked away from him. "Did you sleep with someone's girl-"

"Jesus man, I get it! You hate me but can you fucking stop? Not everything that happens to me is my fault, okay?" Steve snapped, and Eddie flinched back. "Fuck, stop acting like I'll hurt you, Jesus. Billy's just an asshole who needs a punching bag, okay? And he learned that he can take he down, okay?" He gestured to the slowly healing bruises on his face.

Eddie was staring at him, "why you?"

Steve scoffed, "cause he can't take it out on his sister anymore? Cause he's an asshole with mommy issues? Or maybe just because he knows I won't fight back! I don't know, I'm not in his brain! I don't know what he thinks when he trips me in the hallway or throws a ball at my head in the gym!"

Eddie blinks and gets up to his feet, but then he holds out his hand in offering. "Come on, man." Steve takes it and lets Eddie pull him to his feet. He's still a little shaky, but he manages to stay on his feet. "I've been known to adopt lost sheep," he's guided away towards the exit and he's so shocked he doesn't fight it.

"Thought you hated me," He points out.

Eddie laughs, "eh, you can just buy me dinner." Eddie pauses for a moment, but Steve is already nodding. It makes Eddie grin, and he throws an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome to the land of the outcasts. Here I'm the king." He gestures to the group of people smoking by one of the picnic benches outside.

"You'll lose a few cool-dude points if you're seen with us," Eddie smiles like it's funny but Steve just feels bad. These were the people he never stood up for. These were the people he never looked at, just ignored.

Steve smiles and looks at Eddie, "you inviting me into the Munson cult?"

Eddie's grin goes sharp, "You gotta earn that. I'm offering you a starting point."

Steve thinks about how lonely he's been and how kind Eddie's voice had been. "So, how do I climb up the ladder? My only skills are giving rides, basketball, and hair."

"Don't forget the Harrington charm," Eddie grins and it's kinder. "Show us yourself, and we'll see from there." He whispers before turning to the group of people.

"Gentlemen, we have a traveler from the halls of royalty! He's come to bless us with his presence!" Eddie's voice is filled with so much emotion. Steve almost misses the way the group tenses up.

Steve might have a while to go before they trust them. But he thinks maybe it could be worth it. Especially as Eddie looks back at him with a smile that makes Steve's stomach flip. "Uh, hey," he smiles awkwardly, wiggling his fingers in greeting.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #season 2 au #steve needs a hug #king steve #billy hargrove is an ass #steve x eddie #steddie fic #the fallen king and the king of the freaks

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meshlasolus · 7 months

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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shanastoryteller · 4 months

Note

Happy holidays! Something from the Professor Riddle universe?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

"Harry asked me about Sirius."

Tom glances up, slumped at the kitchen table and waiting for Myrtle’s hangover cure to kick in. He has got to stop drinking with Ruby, especially with his ex-wife and Minerva. It never ends well for him.

Regulus sips his coffee, a smirk on the corner of his mouth although he’s thankfully keeping his thoughts on his haggard appearance to himself. He never looks closer to his actual age than after a night of drinking. Ruby, perversely, looks even younger. Tom is convinced that he’s maintaining his youthful appearance through pickling. The half giant part is probably a not insignificant contributor, but he’s convinced it’s the moonshine doing the heavy lifting.

“What did you say?”

He shrugs. “The truth. There’s really not much to say, is there? It’s not like it’s a secret that that lot was convinced that Dumbledore wasn’t that bad, despite the death count.”

“To be fair,” he says and Regulus groans, “we didn’t know it was him for a long time.”

“You did,” he returns.

Yes, but he cheated. “He meant well.”

Regulus stares. “Dad. A lot of people died.”

“Well, sometimes things have to be sacrificed for the greater good,” he says, mouth twisting. “I think Grindewald – broke him. A little. And he wasn’t wrong, probably. Starting a war designed to kill everyone who’s politics you disagree with probably would have ended in some sort of utopia. For him, at least.”

“I don’t get why you still defend him,” he sighs. “You killed him!”

He hadn’t wanted to.

“Seems only right that I defend him then, doesn’t it? It’s the least I can do.”

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #thecottageinthedark #harry potter

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whatbigotspost · 11 months

Text

Sometimes when the bullshit crushing weights of anti aging culture gets to me and I feel like my best years are behind me, I think about my life some arbitrary amount of time in the past and remember all the ways my life has changed since.

5 years ago? I hadn’t met one of my now best friends yet. “COVID” meant nothing to me 😂 I had never broken a bone or had surgery. I didn’t have my kittens.

15 years ago? I lived in a different city 1100 miles away and would have NEVER imagined where I moved. I’ve gotten degrees and married since.

20 years ago? I hadn’t discovered my life’s passion. I was so naive. Hell, I didn’t even have most of the basic life skills yet that I now survive on. My head was so noisy with unhelpful stuff.

If I’ve grown so much since…if those are the kind of things that HAVE happened, who knows what COULD happen?

If anyone else needs it, just think…

•you probably haven’t yet met all the people you will love in your life.

•you probably haven’t yet discovered all the hobbies and activities that will bring you immense joy.

•you probably haven’t yet felt all the feelings you’ll come to feel.

•you probably haven’t yet seen all the things that will bring tears of joy to your eyes.

I don’t know…seems like if we face life with some of these thoughts forefront of mind, we’ll be more likely to get the most of it anyway 💕

#advice #pro aging #self care #growth

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tainted-liquor · 7 months

Text

'Stop Laughing, Baby!...ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁⋆｡

...⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ingredients: sugar, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles !

tws: Cussing, you being in loooove, mention of surgery

a/n: Miles is implied to be over 18, it literally doesnt matter what age js 18-24

"AH! FUCK!"

That was the last thing you said about the pain in your mouth before scheduling a visit with your orthodontist. You had put off getting your wisdom teeth removed for as long as possible, the reason being you were afraid of the anesthesia. Sure, the procedure would probably hurt like hell, but you were more concerned about how you'd act while high off your ass. The idea of being completely unaware of what's coming out of your mouth scared you, and you really didn't wanna say the wrong thing to your parents or whoever would be taking you. So, what did you do?

You waited literal months so nobody but Miles could take you. You sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend's car, quiet and afraid as whatever drill your man had on shook the car. "Nigga you can't be serious right now" You deadpanned, turning towards Miles as you gestured to the radio. "What? You don't like DD Osama?" Miles chuckled, knowing full well what you meant in the moment. "I'm literally about to have surgery and you're listening to...this" You huffed, rolling your eyes and fixing your top in the mirror. Miles laughed loudly, shaking his head before changing the music to your playlist.

"Yeah, you kinda right. Estarás bien, Gorda. Promento" Miles reassured as he put the car in park, leaving you to watch as he used one arm to maneuver his way into the parking spot. Damn, you were lucky. You let out a deep sigh, mentally preparing yourself to literally have your mouth cut open before hearing Miles open your car door. "You okay? Y'want some water before you go in?" He cooed as he took your hand in his, gently helping you out of the car before swinging his arm across your shoulders. "Uh, yeah. Lemme get some water actually" You nodded, nervously taking a sip from his water bottle as you walked toward the massive-looking building.

"Guárdalo si lo necesitas" Miles stated, pushing open the glass double doors as he guided you inside the rather up-beat and bustling building. "Baby I don't speak Spanish" you snorted, giggling slightly at the sudden switch. "Keep it if you need it, mama. I don't want you to be dehydrated, cuz you won't be able to drink for a lil bit after your procedure" he shrugged, pulling you closer to his side and placing a kiss on your forehead. You knew he was right, but you didn't wanna be rude and drink all his water. "Nah, I think I'm fi-"

"Drink. Your water." He reiterated firmly, side-eying you in the most menacing way possible. "My bad original gangster" you squeaked, chugging the remaining water left in the plastic bottle. "Thank you. I need you comfy mama, please let me know if you need somethin'" He reassured as you now stood in the waiting room, sighing as you went to go check in. You filled out the necessary paperwork and then sat down next to Miles, who was currently lightyears deep in his phone. You watched him scroll on his feed, both hands resting on his left forearm while he texted his mom.

"Tell Mama Rio I said hi please" You muttered, watching as he nodded and immediately notified Mrs. Morales of your presence. You felt your heart stop as a rather nice-looking lady called your name, motioning for you to follow her into the O.R. You waved to Miles, feeling your anxiety climb as you followed the assistant to the back, getting comfortable on the leathery dental chair. You took a deep breath, and let everything pass by as they set up everything for the next 15 minutes. But baby when they started that flow of gas? Baby you were OUT.

"So she's still gonna be a little groggy, but right now she should be waking up...Hello!" A cheerful, masked face said as you attempted to open your eyes. "Ffffuuuuuhhhhhhckkkkk..." You whined, attempting to lift your 300-pound eyelids. "Hola, Princesa! Te ves drogado" Miles laughed, clearly amused by your half-open eyes and puffy cheeks. "Miiilesh!" You garbled, reaching your arms up loosely as your boyfriend scooped you off the chair. Your arms awkwardly curved around his neck, vision focusing and un-focusing as you attempt to give him a kiss.

"No-...Mama, I can't kiss you I'm sorry!" He laughed, dodging you to the best of his ability. "Wh...C'mere!" you grunted, clearly not processing his words as he picked up your meds at the front desk. You pouted, huffing and puffing as Miles gave you a gentle pat on the back. He quickly made his way back to the car, placing you in the passenger side as delicately as possible and strapping you in. "Comfy?" He asked, turning his head to the side as he scanned your face for any sort of comprehension.

You blinked at Miles sleepily, lips curving into a smile as you began to giggle at...nothing. "Ah! You can't laug-pfft....-Laugh!"Miles quickly stated as he wrapped a little pink compression bandage around your face. "See? It's soft!" He cooed as he pressed both of your hands to the side of your face, allowing you to feel the fluffy material of the compression band. You smiled at him, watching as he quickly made his way to the driver's side after closing your door. He stared at your blissful face, watching as you ran your hands up and down the fluffy material and mumbled a cute little "Ooooh!"

You rode home in silence as you fiddled with the radio, making more "Oohs" and "Aahs" with each click of a button. "Yeah, they got yo ass looped" Miles guffawed as he watched you play with the A/C vents. You leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes while he drove the rest of the way to his apartment. You weren't exactly awake, but you weren't exactly asleep. You were simply just...gone.

You didn't exactly remember when, but you found yourself back In Miles's arms as he carried you up a bunch of stairs. You clung to Miles, feeling like you were falling as you stared down the stairwell. "You good Mama? You holdin' me a lil tight right now" Miles giggled as he finally reached his floor, kicking his door open and setting you down on his couch. You hummed, laying down on the couch as you observed his black and white 8-ball rug, running your hand through the 'mysterious' texture while you hung off the couch. Miles peeked over the couch, watching as you quite literally played with a rug at your big age.

And he recorded every second of your stupidity. From you playing on a rug, to you attempting to take a nap on the coffee table, and you ACTUALLY taking a nap on his chest. "¿Gorda? ¿Estás bien?" Miles asked as he patted the top of your head, realizing you hadn't made an attempt to walk or go missing in almost 10 minutes. Once he heard that smooth and constant breathing, he knew that you were out cold. He chuckled to himself, putting his phone down on your head as he wrapped both arms around you.

"You're a handful."

...⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Taglist

@ashsostrange @chessbox @faeriesoiree333 @janaeby @kxllanxtdoor @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoistt @milesnanana77 @niaurluv

#across the spiderverse #atsv #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles x black!reader

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jaydenchip404 · 5 months

Text

Katsuki Bakugō × Innocent!Reader

Summary: The Bakugō family had invited you over for dinner, and you showed up early to help with cooking. While Mr. and Mrs. Bakugō were at the store picking up groceries, Bakugō had been planning something.

Notes: The characters are aged up to 18—their last year in high school. Also, Bakugo, Bakugou, and Bakugō are all ways to spell his name, but I like Bakugō the most because it's the rōmaji spelling. The reader is female (she/her). Just a heads-up.

This is my first time writing smut. So please go easy on me.

Words Count: 3,754 Reading Time: 15 min Rating: 18+

Minors DNI

Bakugō had invited you over to his house for dinner. Well, his mom forced him to ask you over. Mitsuki and Masaru loved you. Probably more than Bakugō did.

You arrived early, intending to assist Mitsuki with cooking and setting the table. You knocked on the front door and stepped back, waiting for it to be answered. It only took a few seconds before you heard the furious stomping of Bakugō's house slippers. Screaming could be heard, but what was being said was incomprehensible.

The front door clicked and pivoted open. Standing in the door frame was the immense, intimidating figure of Bakugō.

He was much taller than you and much more burly. You wondered how he could ever love a shrimpy girl like you, but somehow he did, even if he never said those three simple words.

"What the hell are you doing here? Dinner isn't till six." Bakugō snarled.

"I thought maybe I could help your mom with dinner."

And as if she were summoned, Mitsuki pushed Bakugō to the side and hurled herself out of the house. She threw her arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides and smashing your ribs. Bakugō undoubtedly got his strength from her.

"Y/N! My favorite child!" She squealed.

"SHE ISN'T EVEN YOUR KID!" Bakugō shouted.

Mitsuki declared, spinning to face Bakugō and rocking her hip to the side, leaning forward and pointing at him with a smug look on her face.

"Well, if you weren't such a weakling, she would be by now."

Bakugō flushed a radiant hue of rose as he curved his face away, and you did the same at the thought of marriage.

Mitsuki sneered.

"So, are we just going to stand out here, or what?"

Mitsuki led you inside toward the living room, and Bakugō followed behind, slumping forward with his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants.

You sat down on the couch, slipping on the pair of house slippers Mitsuki gave you.

"We weren't expecting you to come so early." Mitsuki gave off an uneasy smile, clutching her hands together by her chest.

"Dinner isn't even ready yet."

"It's alright, really. I actually came early so I could help you guys cook." You clarified. Giving off a similar, if not identical, anxious smile that Mitsuki had.

"Why can't you be more like her?" Mitsuki shouted, slapping Bakugō on the back of his head.

"I would help, but you're always in my damn way!"

The two broke out into a fight right in front of you. Those two were shameless when it came to their emotions.

"Hey!" Masaru clamored, peering out of the kitchen.

"The miso-glazed eggplant is in the oven, but we still need the other ingredients."

Mitsuki stopped mid-fight. "Oh, how could I forget? The onigiri!"

Masaru trekked over to the front door, picked up his keys, and put on his shoes. Then he unlocked the door and stood in the door frame, waiting for his mistress.

"The miso-glazed eggplant needs to be taken out of the oven in a few minutes. Be a dear and set it on the counter when it's done."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Bakugō." You chuckled.

Mitsuki slipped on her shoes.

"You two, enjoy yourselves while we're gone! But not too much~."

"Just shut up and leave already, old hag!"

She gave Bakugō a death glare before locking the door and pursuing her husband to the car.

You were baffled by what she meant when she said, 'not too much fun'.

The second Bakugō couldn't hear the car anymore, he ushered you to his room.

You belly-flopped onto his bed, kicking off your slippers. You found it adorable that the sheets and blankets were All Might-themed. He was such a fanboy.

"Ugh, don't just lay on my bed, dumbass."

You buried your face in his pillow.

"But it's so cozy~!"

Bakugō gave a "tch" before he seated himself at the end of the bed. As far away from you as possible.

It was almost insulting how distant he was from you, but you knew he didn't have the kindest upbringing, and you didn't want him to feel forced into holding hands with you.

The room was soon swallowed in uncomfortable stillness, with your face in his pillow and Bakugō sitting at the end of the bed. The atmosphere was so thick that you could feel that he was thinking.

"Hey…" Bakugō said it so softly and quietly that you thought there might have been someone else in the room.

"Do you wanna to play a game…?"

You perked your head up and sat in front of him with your legs crisscrossing.

"What kind of game?"

"It's rock-paper-scissors, but the loser has to take off a piece of their clothes."

You reddened at the idea of being unclothed in front of Bakugō, but you nodded your head, determined to win! Ignorant to the fact that if you won, then he would be bare.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Rock, paper, scissors… shoot!"

You held your breath, pausing to see if you had lost.

Your hand was held in a ball, rock, and Bakugō had his index and middle fingers out, scissors. You won this round!

You silently celebrated, but you soon tightened up as you watched Bakugō tumble off his sweatshirt.

Your face grew red as your eyes enlarged. Your fingers dug into the thighs of your pants. You couldn't help but stare. It was like his body was sculpted by the Greek gods. His broad chest and flawlessly defined muscles. You felt a warmth develop in your lower area. You couldn't help but rest a few fingers gently against your lower abdomen. You did it without thinking or understanding why. All you understood was that it thwarted the pain the heat was causing.

Bakugō saw your pathetic, blushing form and darkly chuckled.

"You like what you see?"

You jumped, quickly spinning away to stare at a wall. You were a mess, and Bakugō knew this.

You two played a few more rounds, and with every article of attire he took off, the heat grew more and more, and with every article of attire you took off, Bakugō appeared just as flustered. However, that didn't stop him from gaping.

Soon enough, you were both down to nothing but your underwear; you had even taken out your rubber band, letting your hair fall to your shoulders.

"Rock, paper, scissors… shoot!"

You lost again, this time by taking off your bra. You hadn't seen the way Bakugō was glancing at you.

This was it. The last round…

You lost once again, and now you took off the only clothing you had left: your undies.

With one hand, you grasped the waistband, and with the other hand, you used it to suspend yourself as you awkwardly lifted your butt. You slid the underwear down, then sat down as you used both hands to slide them off the rest of the way.

As you took them off, you witnessed a wet area and a string of transparent, shiny liquid linking it to your lady bits. You were bewildered. You tossed them on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You now sat bare-ass on his mattress.

"Oi, since you clearly lost, do you want to play a different game?"

"Um… sure!" You said it bluntly.

"Come sit." Bakugō whispered, patting his thigh. His legs were crisscrossed, facing you.

Curiously, you crawled over to him. You kneeled, looming over his thigh. "Now wha—"

Bakugō clutched your hips and forced you down. When your crotch made contact with his right thigh, you let out a whispered, pleasured hum. You unthinkingly grasped his shoulders.

"Y/N, you're so cute~." He cooed, sloppily kissing your cheek.

"What game is this?" You questioned, your lower area drooling onto his thigh. The heat was scorching you, making your cunny pang.

Bakugō's lips grazed your left ear.

"Let's play an endurance game. Whoever cums first loses."

You tilted your head, confused. "What's 'cum'?"

Bakugō rolled his eyes at your naiveté.

"You'll find out soon, but for now, I'll guide you on how the game works."

His large, calloused hands began thrusting your hips back and forth along his thigh.

It felt good. The heat curled into pressure in your lower abdomen. Your clit massaged against his thigh. It was a pinching, euphoric bliss.

You tilted your head back, allowing long moans to flee your silky lips.

Bakugō relished in the sounds you made.

"Kiss me, Y/N."

"Wh-at? W-Why?" You struggled to talk.

"Because that's how the game works."

Baffled, you obliged. You two have never kissed before. You two haven't even held hands yet. You tightened your eyes and barely puckered your lips. Bakugō grinned to himself. He shut his eyes and bent in.

Your lips clashed together, your teeth slamming. It felt more like a headbutt than a kiss, but the longer your lips brushed, the more delicate it became.

His teeth parted, and his moist tongue slipped out of his mouth and pushed against your lips, waiting to enter.

You jerked, not anticipating him to do that. Yet you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. His tongue played with yours. You let him do his thing, as you had no idea what to do. He mixed his tongue around yours, tasting your mouth.

You soon began to rub yourself against him. Your juices tumbled down his thigh.

"A-Ah~! Ah! Bakugō, w-why does this feel so good?!"

Bakugō hummed.

"Are you about to cum?" He asked smugly.

You hadn't known what he meant by that, yet you felt a force in your stomach forcing you to clench your cunny.

"My stomach feels weird. Ah~!"

"Don't let it out, or you'll lose." Bakugō teased.

"This isn't fair! Nothing's happening to you." You whimpered. Bakugō bounced his leg to build more stimulation, and you moaned at the immense pleasure.

Bakugō carried you into another kiss. This time, it was fainter and more passionate. His scent was driving you crazy. Your head grew dizzy and steamy. You felt like you were going to pass out.

Your pants reverberated throughout the room as he began to kiss your neck. At the base of your neck, Bakugō parted his lips and positioned them on your neck. He firmly pressed them against your skin, so there weren't any openings for air to escape. Bakugō began sucking hard on the skin. His teeth lightly grazed against your neckline, heightening the pleasure. Bakugō lifted from your skin, and you wailed at the suction. He began to place delicate kisses on the mark he sucked, which felt sensitive and almost painful now. Soon enough, a dark spot appeared. Bakugō seemed proud of the mark he made.

You glanced down as Bakugō goggled at your neck. You caught a bulge in his boxers and palmed it. Bakugō choked at the sudden sensation. He groaned and flopped his head into the crook of your neck. Assuming that he enjoyed it, you began stroking up and down. His bulge twitched, and he groaned and started grinding into your hand. Which made you redden.

"Does that feel good?" You questioned.

Bakugō grunted and ceased moving. You yanked your hand away, believing that was a 'no'. Bakugō hissed at the loss of contact. He sat there for a minute in silence. His head is still resting on your neck. You felt terrible, believing you had ruined whatever this was. That was until Bakugō stood up.

"Woah!" You quickly enveloped your legs around his waistline as he carried you tight. He spun around and ambled closer to the top of the bed. Then he tossed you backward.

You screamed and bounced on the bed with a rough landing. When you unclenched your eyes and lifted your head to see Bakugō, your eyes widened with astonishment. He pulled down his boxers, his member standing tall. It was certainly something to marvel at.

He kicked his boxers off and bent down, placing his hand on the bed and hovering over you. His face was rosy yet peaceful. His chest heaved up and down with long, shaky breaths.

"Spread your legs." Bakugō demanded.

You obliged, spreading your legs as far as you could, curious as to what he was going to do.

Bakugō nestled himself between your legs. He grabbed his dick and rubbed it up and down your vulva. You let out a shaky breath as your hole clenched at the stimulation.

"It's going to hurt a bit, okay?"

You nodded, and he slowly thrust inside of you. It felt good, yet it hurt as he stretched you open, molding your walls to his shape.

He slowly pushed in, then waited until you stopped squeezing him, then he'd thrust in a little more.

He clutched your hips and held them down when you lifted your back and wiggled. Tears overfilled your eyes from the pain and pleasure.

"Ba~kugō! It feels so good!" You yelled.

Bakugō slapped your ass. "No!"

You jolted at the sting. Gazing up at him, you clenched your jaw, wondering why he hit you.

"From now on, you call me Katsuki! Got it?" He angrily yapped.

You nodded.

Katsuki then bottomed out. He stood still for a second, then began thrusting. It was slow at first but quickly picked up speed. His hands dug into your hips. Little fireworks set off, scorching your skin. That only added to the pleasure. Your nails dug into his back, leaving bleeding trails.

The pleasure was insane. You couldn't handle it anymore. His thrusts were fast and hard, hitting the back with force. He hit your g-spot, earning high-pitched moans and screams. The side of his tip skimmed against your cervix. And that was the final straw. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Katsuki!"

Katsuki groaned as you dug your nails into his back. Moaning his name, you clenched around his dick hard. He pulled out and jerked, cumming on your tummy. His thick, white seed sank down your abdomen. Katsuki collapsed onto the bed beside you.

"W-What was that?"

"You belong to me now. No one else got it, Y/N?" He spoke breathlessly, the back of his hand resting on his forehead. His other hand was on his stomach.

"Okay." You smiled.

Katsuki placed his left hand on your cheek and bent your head towards him. "You lost the game, by the way." He snickered.

You turned away and sulked. "So what?"

"That means you need to be punished for losing. I'm sure the old hag won't be back for a few more hours, so we have plenty of time."

He sat up and gave you a heavy kiss.

"Let's play the game again."

"This time, I'll win!" You flung yourself up into a seated position, determined to win!

Katsuki shuffled onto the bed, and you pursued. You laid on your back on his pillow.

Katsuki laid between your legs. He kissed your inner thighs, his crimson eyes peering into yours. Your thighs shook ever so slightly. His kisses led down, and right before he touched your vulva, he swapped to the other thigh, kissing it from top to bottom.

He trailed kisses down to the base of your thighs. Then, in one swift motion, he licked a stripe up your inner folds. He noticed you tensed when he passed over your clitoral area. So he decided to focus on your sensitive bud.

He sucked your little heap of nerves into his mouth, and his tongue swirled around it, stimulating every single angle conceivable. Your hands nabbed his hair, tugging out his spiky, ash-blond strands.

Katsuki's fingers poked at your entrance. He gradually thrust his fingers in. He pushed in about two inches and found your spongy spot. He pumped his fingers in and out in a 'come-hither' motion, adjusting the pressure every few seconds. You chewed your bottom lip, attempting to suppress your whines.

It felt like hours had gone by.

Katsuki's fingers bullied your entrance, prodding his fingers in, scarcely feeling your spongy spot, before retracting. Your body was trembling, your toes were bowed, your calves were cramped, and your head was spinning.

"Katsuki! I'm tired! This game is tiring!" You breathily whined. He only hummed, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. He pulled away from your clit with a pop.

"How many times have you lost, Y/N?"

"Too many times!" You screamed about cum, but Katsuki wouldn't let you. Your whole body ached from your persistent denial.

Katsuki's dick was still unimaginably hard. The tip seeped with beads of cum, twitching with the yearning to be inside you once again.

Hitching your thighs under his arms, he placed them on his shoulders, folding you in half, presenting him with perfect access to enter and admire your dripping, needy hole.

"C'mon, one more round. I know you can take it. Just one more." It was almost like he was begging.

You withered. "But I never win!" Katsuki made sure to never let you win.

"It's fine, isn't it? It makes you feel good, doesn't it? You like this game, right?" His voice was husky with need and lust.

You finally gave in. "Just one more round. I don't think anyone else knows this game. So I might as well play as much as I can while I'm still here." Your obliviousness made Katsuki want to bash his head in, but at the same time, he wanted to smooch the life out of you.

"YOU CAN'T PLAY THIS GAME WITH ANYONE ELSE!" Katsuki roared. His sudden shift in tone frightened you a little.

Katsuki shoved your knees into the mattress, and his dick prodded at your entrance.

"A-Ah~! W-Why?" Your cunt clenched around his tip. With a groan, he entered once again, feeling your velvety, soaked walls wrap around him. His hips rocked in as far as he could go, then back out, so only his tip was inside you. Then Katsuki bucked his hips forward, striking your cervix.

"Because I'm the only one who can play this game with you! I'm the only one who will ever be able to make you feel this good."

"Hey kids! We're back! Oh my god! I thought I told you to take the food out of the oven!" Mitsuki hollered once she saw that the downstairs was packed with smoke.

Your head was so dizzy that you didn't hear her. Your nails ripped into Katsuki's back. "I can't take it anymore! I want to give up! It's too much!"

Katsuki bowed down, wrapping his lips around yours, and plunged his tongue into your mouth. He couldn't have you making too much noise.

While Masaru manned the food and opened all the windows and doors to clear the smoke, Mitsuki furiously stomped upstairs.

She slammed her fist on the door. "Katsuki Bakugō! Open this door right now!" She was beyond pissed.

Katsuki rammed into your sweet spot, and you squealed into the kiss.

Mitsuki stopped dead in her tracks, standing at the door. "Hey, what's going on in there?"

Katsuki swallowed your moans and squeals, his movements never ceasing their unbearable pace.

Your eyes broadened as you finally heard Mitsuki's voice. His lips left yours, and he crept up to your ear.

"Gonna answer that, Teddy Bear?"

The adorable pet name made you squeeze around him; a low groan was quelled as he bit your earlobe.

"We're fine, Mrs. Bakugō!"

"Are you sure? You sound out of breath, Y/N. There's no smoke up here."

"We're fine. We just got caught up playing video games." Katsuki replied, ramming into you without mercy.

"Well, because of you two, we have to restart dinner." Mitsuki grumbled, then angrily turned around and hiked down the stairs.

"Teddy Bear…" You squealed as Katsuki hit your cervix. "You like that name, don't you, Y/N~?"

You shook your head, ashamed to admit it. This was the most affection Katsuki has ever shown you. You didn't want it to stop, but it was so embarrassing the way he taunted you.

Katsuki bent back, gliding your legs around his waist. He puckered his lips and let his drool sink into your clit. The frigid saliva made you jolt. Katsuki carried his thumb down and circled your clit. You were way too overstimulated by the abuse your clit was receiving for, god knows, how long. You grabbed onto Katsuki's shoulders. The stimulation was too much for you to handle.

"Katsuki~! I want to pee! Stop! AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!! It'll only take a few minutes, I promise."

He didn't stop; rather, he picked up his pace.

"You can pee here, Teddy Bear."

You clenched your walls around him at the name but also shook your head in humiliation.

"What! No! I'll make a mess everywhere! Katsuki, please! It'll only take a minute, I swear! Just let me go!"

With one last rub to your clitoral area, you came. Your vision withered to white. Your body spasmed. And complete euphoria washed over you. Your release sprayed everywhere. You shielded your eyes in mortification, believing you had wet yourself.

"FUCK!"

You could hear Katsuki swearing, and your tears trickled down your cheeks. But then you felt his seed gush into your stomach. And you could hear him panting.

Katsuki captured your wrists and pulled your hands from your face. You could see that you had gushed from his crotch to his chest. You desired nothing more than to crawl into a ball and perish.

"Oh my god. That was so fucking hot." Katsuki pecked you on the cheek before pulling away.

You noticed that the liquid wasn't yellow like you anticipated; it was clear. You curled your eyebrows in puzzlement.

"That's called squirting, Teddy Bear. C'mon, let's get yours cleaned up."

Katsuki sat up. You gave a frustrated sigh.

"I lost again."

Katsuki chuckled. "Oi, Teddy Bear."

"Yeah?" You sat up.

"…I love you."

You grinned, your chest warming. "I love you too."

Katsuki darted at you in shock. Some part of him wasn't expecting you to answer. You leaned in, your lips claiming his, your cunt skimming over his brawny thigh. It hurt.

"You really love me that much?"

Katsuki blushed. You knew he meant it.

"Now come on, seriously, let's get cleaned up. That old hag is going to kill us when we get down there."

"I'll get a pass because I'm her favorite child, remember~." You beamed.

Katsuki snarled, pushing you onto the bed as he got up. You could tell he was smiling as he went to grab a towel.

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